In the Mountains 19 



"Say," commends Art, "he looks all right in that. May I make 

 you a present of it, Jimmy?" 



"Hold on, I'm in this. We're going to get him a band for 

 it." And William with discriminating care selects, and deftly 

 adjusts an embossed leather band. "Now, Jimmy, the crown of 

 this hat has to be punched just so." William with two fingers 

 pokes the crown of the hat in two places, producing four dents 

 equidistant of the two cranial meridians, and adding the indefinable 

 touch that is of the West western. "And it must sit so." He 

 illustrates, and so doing, makes clear that on the range equally 

 with Bond Street or Pall Mall there is also binding the unwritten 

 law of style to govern the properly clothed man. 



They leave me at lunch, with a last injunction to be sure and 

 see the Tabernacle before they rejoin me at the Hotel Utah, 

 visibly anxious that I shall not fail in that duty to Salt Lake City 

 and the faith, apparently by a lex non scripta binding upon every 

 new visitor to the Mormon metropolis. 



At dinner at the Hotel Utah we were waited upon by a head 

 waiter of as nearly as could be determined, half Chinese, half 

 negro blood, of a surpassingly grotesque ugliness, reminding one 

 of some Japanese war mask, beautiful in its very diabolism of 

 feature, with the speech of a professor of English and the manners 

 of an ambassador. In the midst of dinner, a singer bursting forth 

 with an astonishing volume of sound, the prior efforts of the 

 orchestra having been of no special excellence, the difference 

 between their aspect in evening dress and their performance, led 

 Bill to remark upon their likeness to the doorman upstairs in a 

 wine-colored livery, with a silk hat on his head, and a chew of 

 tobacco in his face. 



Presently after dinner, again to the depot, and once more upon 

 our way to the promised land, our final destination being Yellow- 

 stone, the tourist terminal at the entrance to Yellowstone National 

 Park. In the most matter-of-fact way, the train once under way. 

 Art and Bill settled to their card game begun the first night 

 out from Chicago, and which seems to comfortably take the place 

 of all things else to them. They have already tabbed up an 

 unwieldy score of points on either side, and might have shortly 

 sore need of an adding machine, but for the simple device of 

 subtracting one score from the other, leaving one man plus a 



